


Six Miles 👣

by murderlight



Category: Bleach
Genre: Body Swap, M/M, Showers, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 06:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20149291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/pseuds/murderlight
Summary: Why were they still trusting Urahara? Stuck in a temporary body-swap, Grimmjow and Ichigo try to navigate the tangled labyrinth of body hygiene while wearing borrowed skin.It goes about as well as anyone would expect.





	Six Miles 👣

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShadowThorne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowThorne/gifts), [Shapooda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapooda/gifts).

> i threw out an idea on twitter about this and Certain People enabled me while i was needing a palate cleanser. that's all i have to say on this, no further questions :|

“There’s an eighty-three percent chance it will wear off by the end of the week. In the meantime, don’t damage each other! Stay safe, byeee!” 

As far as comforting words in the wake of a terrible calamity went, they’d been absolute shit. It didn’t help that Urahara had immediately closed the shop, lowered the security roller door and locked it after he kicked them out. Ichigo would have been tempted to kick the hell out of it if he wasn’t in seriously dire straits at the time.

“I can’t go back to Hueco Mundo like this,” Grimmjow said, staring down at his hands in blank horror. Except they weren’t his hands. “I can’t even open a garganta. And my back hurts. Why the fuck does my back hurt?”

“What did you expect? Zangetsu isn’t exactly light, unlike this little toothpick.” Ichigo shook the blue scabbard on his hip for effect.

“You shut the fuck up about Pantera or I’ll...” 

“What? What are you going to do to me?” Ichigo asked pointedly. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re sort of stuck in each other’s body!” 

And they were. They were awfully, terribly switched up thanks to Urahara’s new covert ops kidou spell. Which worked, by the way. It worked really fucking well for switching bodies so infiltration of enemy territory could be undertaken. Except just then _there was no enemy territory. _They were in fucking peacetime! Ichigo could have kicked himself for ever taking the invitation to train in the underground bunker. ‘Free lunch’ his ass.

“I’ll break your nose.” Grimmjow was still stuck on horrible threats, because of course he was. “I’ll break it so hard it’ll never heal and you’ll be snorting blood for the rest of your life. Remember, I’m only in here til the end of the week. You have to live like this forever.” Grimmjow’s bloodthirsty grin looked terrifying in Ichigo’s own excessively handsome face.

“Do it and I’ll cut your dick off!” It’d be agony, but it was for the greater good: not losing an argument with Grimmjow. “Don’t think I won’t do it either; my pain tolerance is unreal. Then the body swap will wear off and _you’ll _be a living Ken doll forever.” 

Grimmjow stared hard at his crotch like he was weighing the value of it. Ichigo wondered if his face always looked so constipated when he was having deep thoughts. 

“I don’t use it for much, but it’s a really nice cock.” He sucked his teeth for an instant. Then, “Fine. We truce until this shit is all over. Let’s go.” 

“Go where?” 

“Your house, dickhead. I’m you, aren’t I?” 

Ichigo covered his face with his hands for a second. Several hundred varying worst case scenarios flashed before his eyes. But what choice did he have?

“Dad is going to shit himself.”

And that’s how it started.   
  


* * *

  
Isshin didn’t actually shit himself, but he did try to inspect Ichigo’s new mask, his blue hair, estigma and the large swath of scar tissue across his shoulder. Nnoitra’s parting gift felt sort of numb and nothing, but it was still weird that his father was trying to study it. Luckily, Grimmjow was territorial about his body even when he wasn’t actually wearing it, and Ichigo’s had perfect muscle memory when it came to dealing with his father. 

Karin had only looked between them with a disturbing amount of clarity, then said she’d tell Yuzu not to hug the shimmering blob she could make out as her brother most of the time. Then she went back to chewing her apple, flipping them both off over her shoulder as she hit the living room couch. 

“Hey!” Yuzu exclaimed five minutes later when she walked downstairs and immediately tried to hug Ichigo’s outline, only to be grabbed at the waist and picked up into the air at arm’s length like a toddler. “Ichi-nii, cut it out! The neighbours are gonna think I’m possessed again!” Her skinny legs kicked ineffectually from two feet off the ground.

“Put her down,” Ichigo told Grimmjow, who was tilting his head in thought. “We’ll go to my room where they won’t bother you.” 

“This kid’s blind?” 

“Spiritually, yeah. Don’t hurt her.” Ichigo watched as Grimmjow actually put her down with an admirable amount of care, looking disturbed. “C’mon.” He pushed him toward the stairs.

It was bizarre, seeing his own body move and make expressions, hearing it breathe with someone else’s breath. Maybe it was vain but Ichigo was fascinated by every movement. He could see his own back as a shinigami for the first time: how the muscles moved under his shihakushou, how disappointingly flat his ass was, what his hair looked like with new eyes, from new angles. Sure, there was a different gait since Grimmjow was trying to work his body when he was used to being taller, maybe a little broader, and he didn’t carry Zangetsu on his back with the same ease, but Ichigo’s eyes drank it all in. Even the brown-eyed glance over his shoulder as Grimmjow ascended the stairs, strangely penetrating and fierce.

Yeah, definitely vain.   
  


* * *

  
“You are _not _looking at my body naked!” 

“I need to shower!” Grimmjow said hotly. “I stink! You stink! It’s fuckin' disgusting!”

“I don’t care, you’re not doing it!” 

“Then what’s the alternative? You gonna shower me while I keep my eyes shut? ‘Cause other than staying rank and disgusting for the whole fuckin’ week, I can’t see a way around it!” Shoving his hand into his—Ichigo’s—uniform, Grimmjow rubbed his armpit and shoved his hand across Ichigo’s mouth and nose. “Breathe it in! You’d better get used to it, Kurosaki, because it’s only getting worse from here.” 

Gagging against the smell of his own fetid body odour, which somehow seemed a hundred fucking times worse because Grimmjow was wearing it, Ichigo shoved him away so hard he fell back on the floor and smacked his head on the wooden boards. Hey, nice. Wait, did that mean Grimmjow’s body was naturally stronger? Fuck that! 

“I don’t care how you do it, you’re not hitting me with body image issues after all this is done with. Wash in the dark for all I care.” 

“Touch your body up in the dark?” Grimmjow said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his orange head. His smile was wide and sharp in a way Ichigo could never have managed. “Sounds sexy. I’ll do it.” 

Ichigo went purple.

Ten minutes later they were both naked and crammed into the shower together, the lights off and only the faint glow of streetlights through the window illuminating the room. The spray of the water was only moderately warm, because god help them both it wasn’t meant to be an enjoyable experience and Ichigo felt like maybe he needed a small reminder of that. Everything about it was so surreal. Grimmjow. Wearing his body.

“We do this, we don’t talk about it ever again,” Ichigo hissed down at the crown of his own head. Shit, he felt tall. Who knew four inches could matter so much? “Keep your eyes shut and your hands to yourself.”

Coughing his way through some kind of reaction, Grimmjow linked his hands behind his back and spread his legs. The chin that tipped up to him was stubborn, but with the night vision afforded his new arrancar body Ichigo could see his eyes were firmly closed. With the spray drumming on his shoulders, forming a wall between it and Grimmjow, Ichigo felt strange for a moment. In control. He grabbed the washcloth and the soap and started lathering.

He started with the chest first; wide, hasty swipes with the cloth that were harsher than intended, leaving streaks of white foam in their wake. He rubbed roughly til he heard Grimmjow stifle a small, quiet sound and realised he’d scraped straight across his nipples.

“Sorry,” Ichigo muttered, lightening his touch. He made sure the next pass with the cloth was gentle, circling rather than dragging like sandpaper. He was moving his way across lean shoulders by the time he got a reply.

“S’your body,” Grimmjow replied stiffly, eyes still slammed shut. His heels squeaked on the tiles. “Do whatever you want.” He seemed oddly compliant for someone threatening to smash his nose permanently not long ago.

Ichigo didn’t bother to look a gift horse in the mouth, instead squinting with his new vision as he worked. He reached back now and then to wet the cloth, figuring he could go the traditional ‘scrub first, rinse last’ method. Mainly because the shower was small and he didn’t want to freeze. Let Grimmjow freeze.

He was getting the offending armpits good and clean by the time Grimmjow spoke next. “Oi, Kurosaki. Aren’t you taking your time here? Could have just blistered me in two minutes and we’d be done already.”

“Hygiene is important,” Ichigo said grumpily. “Also I don’t want any weird chafing when I get my body back. Just put up with it.”

“Not like I mind. Weird feeling, though.”

“Everything about this is weird.” Ichigo stroked the cloth down from pit to hip and back up again. “It’s so weird seeing myself and knowing it’s you in there, not me. But I guess it’s kinda like Zangetsu.”

“Your zanpakutou?”

“Yeah, he looks like my black and white twin. Want me to wash your hair?”

“_Yeah,_” Grimmjow replied with way too much enthusiasm, reaching out blindly for the caddy overflowing with plastic containers. “Use a good one. And get your fingers in there hard.” Ichigo knocked his hand away and pinned it behind his back again with a forceful press. “Hey.”

“Got soap duty first. There’s an order to these things, you know.” The washcloth slid south over Grimmjow’s stomach and around to his back. Trying to get all of it washed equally pressed their chests almost flush together. Grimmjow’s eyelids were trembling as he screwed them shut. Jeez, Ichigo didn’t think it was that bad, it had been his suggestion after all. Speeding up his attentions, Ichigo slicked up his back and ass nicely and pulled away. Grimmjow almost came with him, tugged by the force as they bumped together and away again. Ichigo didn’t mention it as he continued his work.

“Have you considered,” Grimmjow murmured dreamily later, in the middle of a thorough leg washing, “that it would have been way less sexy if you just let me scrub off real quick in the dark while you watched? Not that I’m complaining. This body likes my hands a lot.”

“Wh-that doesn’t mean anything,” Ichigo said, flustered. He straightened. “And I don’t trust you to know how to actually wash head to toe anyway. What do you mean you like these hands?” His gaze swung down below Grimmjow’s hips. “Oh. _Oh. _Fuck. Quit that.”

“Tell me how to. It’s your cock, Kurosaki. Wanna wash that too?”

“That’s not – I’m not trying to – you know, fuck this,” Ichigo muttered, embarrassed beyond all belief. Worse, he’d dug his own grave from start to finish. He’d actually made his body—and Grimmjow—hard from an intense round of soapy massage like some kind of well-meaning idiot. How was he supposed to be normal around him now? “You can finish washing yourself then. I’m outta here.”

“Whoa, hey, hold up,” Grimmjow laughed, grabbing his slippery waist as he tried to bail. Eyes open this time, he grinned up into Ichigo’s miserable and mortified face. “Shit, Kurosaki, I was kidding. The hard-on’s not even your fault, really. I’m not used to feeling anything on my skin, unless it’s a fuckin’ blade. Haven’t you noticed how numb everything feels in that body?” Fingertips reached out and pinched the scant amount of soft skin around his nipple, twisting it hard. Ichigo tensed in anticipation of the pain, but there was nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Grimmjow’s alien brown eyes were almost kind, and a little empty. “That body’s built for combat, not fun. I’m just having some while you’re giving it to me.”

Well, that explained why he wanted his hair washed too, among other things. Now that Ichigo was really paying attention, he _couldn’t_ feel much of anything. Sure, there was a vague impression of the water being warm on his back, and pressure on his waist from Grimmjow grabbing him, but the usual sensations seemed completely dulled, like there was a layer of insulation between him and every soft and sharp pressure he was so used to feeling. He felt packed in rubber and cotton wool without ever having a say in it. No wonder Grimmjow was enjoying his body so much.

“It’s the hierro, right?” Ichigo asked reluctantly. “Protects your skin from harm. I never thought it was always on like this.”

A lean shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s useful. Can’t complain about it. I can turn it off, I think.”

“You think?”

“Never tried.” Grimmjow dragged slow fingers down his borrowed chest, back up his neck and across to his mouth. There was something puzzled in his face. “How the fuck do you stay alive when you can feel everything like this? Doesn’t everything hurt like hell?”

Against his will, Ichigo’s stupid heart melted a little. He just looked so bewildered by it, standing there with a rock-hard erection and fingertips grazing his unfamiliar skin, like he’d never felt much of anything good in his life. And hadn’t he said he never used his dick much? It explained why Ichigo was just standing there like a spare part, when really a shared shower with another wet and naked person should have been playing absolute havoc with his hormones no matter who it was. It wasn’t like Grimmjow was hard on the eyes when he was in his own body, let alone Ichigo’s. It was still him under that orange hair and smooth skin. Still fierce and amused and violent. Just…exploring, a bit. Enjoying himself.

Hard to stand in the way of that without a good reason.

“Some things hurt.” Ichigo dropped the cloth to the tiles with a wet slap and started lathering his hand with soap. “Other things don’t hurt at all.” He reached out and took Grimmjow’s erection in hand, feeling the slip and hood of him throb in response. “You can hold onto me if you want,” he added as he started to move.

Grimmjow didn’t take long to comply, stepping into him so hard their hips knocked together and put them both head-first under the pouring spray of tepid water, biting the strong muscle of his shoulder to muffle whatever sounds he thought he was going to make. It didn’t hurt, really, so Ichigo let him do it, reaching around to grip his ass with his free hand. Weirdly, Grimmjow went up on his tip-toes like a cat stretching at the sensation. But maybe that had more to do with his increasing pace, the water turning the sounds rhythmic and embarrassingly wet as the soap kept running clean. Ichigo kept up the attention, squeezing a little tighter than he usually would, moving a little faster. Somehow he didn’t think Grimmjow appreciated slow and soft. Besides, they were on the clock.

“You okay?” Ichigo whispered at one point over the water, right against his ear. Hands like iron were digging into his back, moving and looking for places to grip before they slid down, then up again. His face was almost grinding into Ichigo’s shoulder. “Just relax, jeez. Actually—” he broke pace for the instant it took to get a new handful of liquid soap, “—now you can relax. Call it the perks of being Kurosaki Ichigo for a few days. C’mon, move your hips into me a bit. You can’t be that dusty.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Grimmjow said, sounding like broken glass and rust, but his hips started jerking into Ichigo’s hand with gathering force. Straddling his thigh in the process, Grimmjow met each stroke with an answering thrust, gathering speed until the rhythm was lost completely, until his teeth sank down into Ichigo’s arrancar skin again and a warmth different to the shower spilled across his fingers in long pulses that matched the strain of the body against his. “Oh, fuck,” Grimmjow gasped hoarsely, still riding out the aftershocks into Ichigo’s hand. “Oh, okay. Yeah. I’m uh, seeing the appeal of not having hierro.”

“Glad one of us is having fun,” Ichigo snorted when Grimmjow pulled away with some hesitation, inspecting his still-erect dick with wonder. “You’ve officially just gotten more action in my body than I have in the last…” He tried counting but stopped when it started getting embarrassing. “You know, never mind. Anyway, this numb body you get around in all the time? There’s no point, since you’re faster than anyone weaker than you and the ones who aren’t can get through your hierro anyway. Just figure out how to get rid of it. Then you can jerk off every day in peace.” Ichigo grinned down at the confounded, kind of annoyed face looking up at him. “Might even improve your mood. You still want your hair washed?”

“You fuckin—yeah,” Grimmjow said, running his hands through flattened orange hair til it stood up on end. “Turn the light on though. I can’t see dick in the dark like this. No pun intended.”

The next five minutes were spent blinking in the sudden harsh golden light of the bathroom, Grimmjow enjoying the hell out of his first hair washing experience and Ichigo feeling sort of smug and weird by turns. Had he just jerked Grimmjow off, or had he just had some kind of weird narcissistic moment where he’d been a little bit attracted to himself? Except he couldn’t have, or Kon and he would have probably fucked on every surface of the house already. It definitely wasn’t a self-attraction. Which meant it had to be Grimmjow in his body that was making him do all that. Grimmjow and his weird, touch-starved arrancar physiology. Even after only a few hours inside his body, feeling that weird disconnect from his usual skin, Ichigo felt jealous of the enjoyment on his face as he dragged his fingers through wet and soapy hair. When Grimmjow sighed a little and sagged back against his chest, finally clean from top to toe, the eyes that looked up into his were warm and sleepy with satisfaction. It was such an unfamiliar expression that for an instant Ichigo just blinked right back at him.

“S’weird seein’ my face look so soft,” Grimmjow yawned, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Didn’t think it even knew how to. I’m pretty good looking though.”

“Real modest,” Ichigo snorted without heat, trying to support his weight when he felt like a wet bar of soap. “You’re all right, I guess.” 

“Don’t flatter me too much, Kurosaki. I’ll blush.” Turning around inside the circle of his arms, Grimmjow looked up through messy dark orange strands. There was water dripping down his smooth cheeks, catching in the corner of his mouth. Ichigo was still watching their path when he was kissed with a shockingly warm, soft mouth. It put the shitty temperature of the water to shame, Ichigo thought as he bent into it, increasing the pressure as a tongue slipped between his teeth, the tip touching one over-sharp canine on the way in.

_You’re kissing yourself_, a helpful part of Ichigo’s brain whispered, and it sounded a lot like Rukia for some reason. He ignored it in favour of realising with quiet delight that beyond his skin, his mouth could feel everything. Absolutely everything that touched his tongue and stroked the roof of his mouth, delving for the places even he couldn’t reach. Grimmjow tasted like faint salt and nothing, but there was soap across his lips that must have run from his hair. It made him laugh enough that he pulled away, wiping his lips on his cheek.

“No, that was hot,” Grimmjow argued, irritated. “Stop fuckin' laughing.”

“Sorry, but you taste like Lux.”

“Shut up, dickhead. At least I’m clean. You gonna wash off, or is this like a trade-off? Because I’m not giving you a fuckin’ hand job out of nowhere. It wouldn’t even work.”

“I can do it if you don’t have any problems,” Ichigo said breezily, like having an issue with someone touching their body was for morons. “But I don’t know what to do with the hole.”

“Which one?”

“The one through my stomach! Which one do you think? My ass?” Ichigo framed the giant circle punched through his abdomen with his hands. “I don’t want to touch it in case my guts fall out, or I transform or something.” Grabbing Grimmjow’s hand, he pulled it toward the void inside him. “You do it.”

“Gross,” Grimmjow said flatly. “No hollow fiddles with another hollow’s hole, Kurosaki. Even we have limits.” But his mouth twitched to the side in thought, and after a moment he grabbed the cloth off the tiles. “Guess this is a special circumstance. Just be normal, if you can. This’ll feel weird.” 

“It’d be weirder if it didn’t,” Ichigo muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as a cloth-covered hand headed for his middle. He didn’t need to see what was about to happen. “Just make it krrrk—!” A scratchy-warm pressure stroked its way around places that had never felt anything like it. Was there no—did the hierro not apply to the inside of the hole? “Grimmjow, it feels—”

“Shhh, just give it a second more.”

“But it’s in me!”

“Calm down. I’m not gonna hurt you.” And he didn’t, just carefully moved around in a few gentle circles and finally tugged the cloth free, looking a little rattled himself when Ichigo opened his eyes. “All done. You feel weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it. Holes are just like that. Did it turn you on?”

“Little bit,” Ichigo admitted, and covered his face with his hands. “Is that normal?”

“Who the fuck knows? I never asked anyone else about it. Good to know you felt it too, though.” Grimmjow looked frustrated for an instant, wringing the cloth out between his fists. “I’m the only male arrancar left. You’re the closest thing I have to—someone like me. Which is fucking sad, you know. Being in this body of yours, it’s completely fucking different.” The defeat in his tone barely masked what was under it. “Finish washing yourself, I guess. Thanks for getting me off.” He reached for the glass door, a muscle in his jaw twitching.

Ichigo had a quick choice to make. “Wanna fuck me?”

Grimmjow missed the door handle by a mile and almost headbutted the glass. The look he slowly turned to Ichigo was incredulous. Feeling his cheeks burning like fire, wondering what the hell a blushing Grimmjow even looked like, he committed to the cause and hoped it wouldn’t all end up in some weird gross self-sex tangle they’d never crawl out of.

“I mean, you just need to get past the hierro, right? That’s just skin; I felt it when you soap-kissed me. The hierro doesn’t go inside, so—”

“Hell fucking no,” Grimmjow said with such cold emphasis that it crushed all of Ichigo’s hopes and dreams for decades to come. “I’m not fucking myself, and I’m definitely not fucking _you_ because you’re pitying me right now, asshole. That’s sick.”

“it was just an idea,” Ichigo muttered, wishing the lightbulbs overhead would blow and hide his embarrassed face from view. “I didn’t mean—” Hands clasped his face on either side, mask and cheek, til they were looking eye to eye.

“We’re gonna wait til I’m back in my own body, and then you’re gonna fuck me.” Grimmjow’s borrowed brown gaze was fierce. “At least til I figure out how to get rid of the hierro for good. Then I’m gonna ride you into the centre of Urahara’s big disgusting king-sized bed, and I’m not gonna get off til you come all over his stupid bamboo sheets.” He turned for the door again, this time successfully opening it while Ichigo stood in mute shock, now-cold water drumming on the side of his head. “Now hurry up and wash. If I get my body back and it’s dirty I’m gonna be pissed.” The door clicked shut, leaving Ichigo alone and a smear of orange and cream on the other side of the glass walking to grab a towel off the rack.

Well, in all honestly Ichigo hadn’t seen that kind of proposition coming. Maybe their minds would change when they were back in their own bodies and things weren’t so mixed up. But if Urahara’s predictions were right, and they usually were off by a day or two, they’d be back in their own skin real soon. Ichigo had a feeling Grimmjow’s burning desire to absolutely defile Urahara’s bed wouldn’t have died off by then. Besides, Ichigo had plans of his own.

_Operation: Reverse Hierro_ had to be carried out and tested by someone, after all.

Ichigo felt like he was up to the task.


End file.
